


anger management

by jocky



Category: A Practical Guide to Evil - erraticerrata
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Enemies to Friends to Lovers, F/F, THANK U #navy-of-callow, aero you better fucking read this to your kids as their bedtime story, alternative universe - college/university, and also fuck you #navy-of-callow seriously i stayed until 2 the day before a test, enemies to frenemies to lovers, just a dash of homoeroticism, my 2 faves (one of whom is especially problematic) WILL kiss, social justice terrorist!cat, special thanks to @fayhem for betaing :D, unrepentant capitalist!akua, well actually
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-02-02
Updated: 2020-08-01
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:21:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 19,856
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22530874
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jocky/pseuds/jocky
Summary: "So you're a social justice terrorist," Akua concluded, not bothering to answer that entire defensive last bit. The sirens were getting louder. She would have to leave soon, considering that she had no intention of explaining exactly what had happened to a police officer. "Okay. One more question. Why is the fire fucking green?"The girl turned to her and bared a smile that was all teeth, halfway feral with an intensity that was almost captivating. (Wait, what? Fuck. Fucking carbon monoxide.) "Chem eng major, baby."...Or, the AU in which both Catherine and Akua get sent to anger management even though they absolutely do not deserve it.
Relationships: Catherine Foundling & Akua Sahelian, Catherine Foundling/Akua Sahelian
Comments: 20
Kudos: 147





	1. control

**Author's Note:**

> join the unrepentant shitposting in the Guide server, https://discord.gg/CggeV2k . it’s where the idea for this fic was born!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [disclaimer: this has tons of legal inaccuracies. no i do not care. also, i wrote this in like 3 hrs in the middle of the night so bear with me.]

Hell, Akua Sahelian decided, was a 20x20 classroom.

Specifically, it was a 20x20 classroom cloaked in a very particular shade of peeling grey paint with so much dirt caked in between the floor's grout lines that it was impossible to determine the original color. The whiteboard on the far wall was clearly far past its glory days, decorated with scrawls of obscene graffiti and illegible curses instead of the complex mathematical equations that it _could_ have proudly exhibited, had it been fortunate enough to be located in Professor Wekesa's classroom. Unfortunately, it was not located in Professor Wekesa's classroom. It was located in Ater University's very own cemetery for common sense, also known as "anger management". And now Akua was stuck here with that godforsaken whiteboard for a whole hour, for a full two days out of each week, for eight entire weeks.

 _And for what?_ Akua despaired within the privacy of her own mind. _For fucking what?_ No one had been murdered. No one had been grievously injured, even. The worst thing she had done was inflict property damage, and not enough property damage to make a dent in Ater University's impressive endowment. One of Mother's annual alumni contributions would've more than covered the cost of that little accident, plus smoothed over any hurt feelings, and if it didn't, Mother could've just donated more. That was how bribery worked! Just keep liberally applying money until you're no longer in trouble! But oh, Akua was in trouble, and no amount of generous donations could help her now.

“Good afternoon, everyone,” Mr. Black spoke drily, looking very much like it was not, in fact, a good afternoon. The words were pronounced in much the same way that Akua would imagine a death knell sounded: deep, ominous, and heralding an unspeakably grim fate. That was, all in all, not an inapt summation of her current circumstances. Being forced in a confined space with five other mentally unstable students and being prodded to talk about her _feelings_? Vulnerability was not a token to be distributed at will or a currency to be exchanged for sympathy, and Black was a fool if he thought he could ask that of her. Besides, she wanted none of his sympathy, even if she could have had it for free.

“Not really a good afternoon if we've gotta hang around you, chief. No offense." Despite his words, the boy who spoke up put an admirable amount of effort into making sure the tone of his voice could in no way be construed as apologetic. Akua tilted her head, slightly, and regarded him. The entire way his body was set up was inherently repulsive: there were altogether too many bones jutting out where they shouldn’t be visible, his olive skin was loosely garbed over a withered, thin frame, and the curtain of dark hair falling into his eyes wasn't quite low enough to hide the severely bloodshot state of one of his eyes. Additionally, the salacious way he was draped over his chair was affronting enough to be intentionally insulting.

“You are entitled to your opinion,” Mr. Black replied impassively, before turning a cold green eye to the class. “I will not stand here and tell you that you are broken, or that I can somehow fix you. I respect your intelligence too much for that.” Unlike Black, Akua did not inherently respect anyone in this class’ intelligence. She did not voice the thought, however, because she had a functioning brain. “However, I am of the belief that you will all eventually discover that it is in your best interest to follow the guidelines of this class for at least the eight weeks that you are here. That includes respecting me, your fellow students, and yourself. Hopefully, by the time we part ways, you will have learned something that you find useful.”

The red-eyed boy pretended to consider that for a moment before ultimately shaking his head, head swinging back and forth between bony shoulders like a bobble-head doll. “Nah, I don’t think so," he drawled. "Good spiel, though! Very heartfelt. I’ll give you, hmm, a 7 out of 10 for effort.” He graced Black with a winning smile, all bloodless lips pulled over crooked teeth, and at that point Akua decided she could no longer tolerate looking at him. To his credit, Black seemed completely unfazed, dipping his chin in an ambiguous gesture that could be interpreted as either acknowledgment or silent disdain. He deftly fished a small, creased piece of paper from his suit jacket, unfolding it with a clear of his throat.

"Your commentary is noted," he replied in the same bland monotone that Akua suspected she would grow to dislike in the coming weeks. "Now, before we get started, I would like to confirm that everyone is here. Please raise your hand when you hear your name. Is there an Anaxares?"

"Present, sir."

This Anaxares, Akua noticed with a detached curiosity, was remarkably plain and serious-looking - almost a deliberate contrast with the clownish mannerisms of the red-eyed boy he was sitting next to. He was notable solely for his age, sporting a thinning crown of black hair with the faintest suggestions of wrinkles around his mouth and between his brows, but even that did not draw much attention. She estimated him to be perhaps twenty years older than the rest of them, though he had one of those faces where it was difficult to tell. The red-eyed boy had moved his chair to sit closer to Anaxares, so it was clear they had some sort of connection, but how deep or superficial that connection was would remain to be seen. They did not look to be family, though genes were fickle enough that she could be wrong.

"William?"

A grunt of surly acknowledgement came from Akua's right, just comprehensible enough that she could recognize the source was a human. Setting aside the rudeness for a moment, he was the first person in the room who was actually pleasant to look at. Dark, wavy hair that a more vapid soul might've called 'artfully tousled' and angular cheekbones cut a stark figure, as did the tattered brown leather trenchcoat hugging lean muscles. There was a glint in his admittedly vivid green eyes, though, and it was not a flattering glint. It was the glint of a man who spent a considerable amount of time brooding in front of a mirror, deluding himself into believing that anyone else actually cared about his tragic backstory. That, in and of itself, made him unsuitable for any kind of flirtation. Disappointing, of course, but then again she was not here to scout for romantic prospects.

"Akua?"

Akua let out a minuscule sigh, perhaps just enough to convey her immeasurable disappointment with being lumped together - literally and metaphorically - with the rest of the chaff. "Present, Mr. Black," she replied, making sure to inflect her tone with enough remorse that it reflected well on her character but not so much that the others would assume she did something truly awful. Pausing, Black caught her eye for a fraction of moment and tilted his head the barest centimeter. It would've been unnoticeable, if she hadn't been trained in reading body language ever since she'd first learned what body language was. Innumerable possibilities rose to the forefront of her mind: Black was known to be close to Dean Alaya. Could he be trying to convey some sort of apology for the lack of accepted bribes? Or was it a mere acknowledgment that she did not belong here? But as soon as the moment came it went, and Black continued reading his list.

"Nauk?"

"Right here, tiny man! Don’t break your neck trying to look up at me." Nauk let out a guffaw of bellowing laughter, face still smeared with the dark green paint of the football team. _He must've come straight from practice_ , Akua considered, trying to decide where that piece of information fit within her mental impression of him. He had enough muscle in enough places that one could accurately call him brutish-looking, with shoulders like an ox and sturdy thighs that spilled over the comparatively flimsy chair. The casually cocky grin implied to Akua that this one made a sport of riling others up, much like the red-eyed boy from earlier. She could not help but hold him in disdain for that. Mockery had its uses, but altogether senseless provocation was not an admirable personality trait - though apparently it was conducive to finding oneself in an anger management class. (In this particular case, however, Nauk had not been incorrect. Mr. Black was quite a diminutive man, hovering somewhere just short of 5'1 from her estimation.)

"Kairos?"

The red-eyed boy from earlier flashed a leering smirk at Black, pale tongue peeking out like some kind of deformed pink slug. "Right here. Did ya miss me?" _No_ , Akua thought silently, giving the room a last brief look-over. Black had called everyone, but there was still a conspicuously empty seat. Unless the person who set up the room had forgotten about the numerical difference between the numbers 5 and 6, there should be another–

The door slammed open. "I know I'm late," loudly declared the girl who just walked in, "but for the record I don't think I should be here at all, so y'know, just jot that down."

There were sometimes moments in movies, Akua thought distantly, where the camera would pan dramatically to someone's face in slow-motion to illustrate the 'freezing' of time that occured after a particularly shocking revelation. No such thing happened here, however. The exact moment that Akua's brain processed what her eyes were sending - the very unpleasant image of a tan girl with a low ponytail and a particular thuggish arrogance emanating off her in noxious waves - her lips moved, clumsy and half by instinct, words spilling over themselves in a mad dash to get out and into the open.

_"You fucking bitch, you're the one who set the fire!"_

…

**2 days earlier, in an abandoned, half-bulldozed Wendy's parking lot.**

The key word, as it so often was, was control. Control was what separated humans from animals, the bottom-feeders from the leaders of the world. Knowing exactly what you wanted, why you wanted it, and how much you wanted it was crucial to living a successful life. Akua had religiously worshipped at the altar of control for her entire life, paid adoring homage to it, but there was still one truth she could not ignore. Sometimes, no matter how hard she tried, she could not master all of the variables. She could not predict every outcome of every circumstance. And she could not account for some random fucking pyromaniac girl screwing with her very carefully orchestrated act of defiance.

Akua watched the Wendy's go up in flames with a heart that was slowly but surely sinking to her stomach like an anchor cutting through sea water. The previously mentioned random fucking pyromaniac girl watched with her, hands jammed in her jeans pockets, jaw tense. The silence between them was not a 'hey, arson buddies!' kind of companionable silence. It was sheer awkwardness, which Akua found patently ridiculous. Awkwardness was for when you called someone the wrong name, or couldn't find anyone to dance with at a party. Not for when you set one half of an abandoned Wendy's on fire, and some stranger set the other half of the Wendy's on fire for a completely unrelated reason and now both of you are watching it burn to ash while sirens are wailing in the distance.

"Why did you do it?" the other girl asked, voice strangely hollow. "Set the fire, I mean."

Akua stared ahead, transfixed. The fire ate another piece of scaffolding. "My mother is putting money into gentrifying this area. I wanted to show my displeasure. It was… supposed to be controlled." That wasn't quite the most accurate phrasing, admittedly. Akua could not care less about the fate of underprivileged communities, or any locally-owned stores that might be run out of business by the sudden emergence of Whole Foods. But she was not about to discuss the real reason, and consequently her complicated family life, with an arsonist.

"Your mom is fucking capitalist bootlicker scum?" The other girl jerked back violently, stumbling to catch herself. "Do you know how bad gentrification is for-"

"I don't give a fuck," Akua interrupted bluntly. "Your turn. Tell me. Why."

The other girl scoffed. "Like I said before you interrupted me. Gentrification is bad. I'm just… how did you put it? 'Voicing my displeasure' with the pathetic state of affairs that is our government. And look, my fire was meant to be controlled too, okay? How was I supposed to know that you'd also be here with gasoline and a lighter?"

"So you're a social justice terrorist," Akua concluded, not bothering to answer that entire defensive last bit. The sirens were getting louder. She would have to leave soon, considering that she had no intention of explaining exactly what had happened to a police officer. "Okay. One more question. Why is the fire fucking _green_?"

The girl turned to her and bared a smile that was all teeth, halfway feral with an intensity that was almost captivating. ( _Wait, what? Fuck. Fucking carbon monoxide._ ) "Chem eng major, baby."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [disclaimer: don’t try arson at home folks. it will not land you in anger management with your homoerotic rival. seriously don’t do it]
> 
> FANART:  
> \- flaming wendy's [ https://imgur.com/iiQxxLf] by par  
> (seriously par thank you sm you're fucking awesome :D)


	2. metaphors

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oh right i forgot to mention but this thing is gonna be in alternating povs. so cat this chapter, and then akua next.

Catherine Foundling, by and large, liked to consider herself a part-time revolutionary. She wasn't fully-fledged by any means, as sadly her hectic university schedule and part-time job at Tikoloshe’s Artisan Coffee gave her precious little time to arrange any large-scale protests, but still she went out of her way to stick it to the man on any occasion she could. This included putting up posters denouncing the evils of unchecked capitalism, debating leftist theory with anyone who cared to listen (and even some who didn’t), and on very rare occasion setting abandoned buildings on fire.

She could make a convincing case, she thought, for the unfortunate complete annihilation of the Wendy’s not being entirely her fault. For one, who knew it was so ridiculously easy to commit arson? Apparently, all you needed was a fuel source, an oxidizer, a lighter, and a burning sense of conviction to make something _actually_ burn up. Honestly, she didn't know why more people didn't do it. Lighting fires was fun as fuck and, if done for a good reason without harming anyone, was morally impeccable. Not that she would ever consider committing arson without a just cause. Great power came with great responsibility, and much like Spider-man, Cat was a true paragon of justice. Also much like Spider-man, she couldn't afford to ever let her secret identity be unmasked because technically arson was, uh, still illegal. That was where Thief had come in.

Thief, real name unknown, was somewhat of a legend within the not-so-hallowed halls of Ater U. She'd risen to prominence after leaking the answers to a final the year before, and since then had established her reputation even more by periodically dropping juicy bits of confidential information about the faculty. It had taken quite a few cashed-in favors, but Cat had managed to get ahold of an email address that supposedly belonged to the infamous hacker. It was a long shot, but she had thought ‘ _fuck it, what’s the worst that could happen_ ’ (as she frequently did) and sent a message asking if it was possible to get ahold of the patrol schedules of the police on a certain day. Half an hour later, Cat received the link to a Paypal account along with a few lines of text. _Who do you think I am? Of course I can do that. Not for free, though. $50._

$50, of course, was a small price to pay for not getting caught and tazed and possibly brutalized by the cops, so Cat happily paid up. After that, things went smoothly. It was quick work to whip up enough boric acid to comfortably turn, say, a fast-food-restaurant sized fire green. Why green? Well, not only did the distinctly unusual color imply that the fire was man-made - this was an act of protest, and Cat had no intention of letting a dumpster of all things take her credit - but it also looked fucking badass in the right lighting, which would ideally be the pitch-black veil of 3am.

In hindsight, Cat knew exactly where she had gone wrong. She had gotten too arrogant, and choked on her hubris. She hadn't even _considered_ that someone else might have the same idea as her - namely, of setting an abandoned, half-bulldozed Wendy's ablaze on a Tuesday night. How could she have known, though? Specifically, how could she have known that some random preppy rich girl with a bootlicker mom would show up, steal her fucking idea, set the fire on the exact opposite side of the building, and therefore cause the combined fires to grow wildly out of control and turn the entire building into nothing more than a sad pile of charred, smoldering ash with the Wendy mascot's scorched face lying limp in the rubble?

No, Cat decided, she couldn't have known. It wasn't her fault. Luckily, she and the other girl had managed to flee the scene of the crime quickly enough that no one could prove they had anything to do with the incident. Not so luckily, she and the other girl had promptly gotten into an argument once they were actually on campus, which was also not Cat's fault. Not only did that girl insult her fire's beautiful green tint (she was whining that the color made it impossible for the fire to look like an accident, which was literally the fucking point), she also had the audacity to do it while calling Cat a "social justice terrorist" in a tone of voice that implied social justice was somehow _bad_ . To which Cat obviously was obligated to respond, because honestly fuck conservatives. Those bitches had _zero_ empathy or regard for anything aside from their own ceaseless greed and–

Anyway, after ten or so minutes of irate political arguing, their yelling had gotten loud enough to attract campus security. Long story short, this wasn't exactly Cat's first offense and so - for the crime of _free speech_! - she had been condemned to anger management. Which brought her all the way here, standing in front of what must've been the shittiest door in the university, seven minutes late because she'd missed the damn bus.

Cat sighed irritatedly, opening the door with perhaps the tiniest bit more force than necessary. Well, small mercies. On the bright side, Ater U's campus was big enough that she would most likely would never have to see that fucker again. "I know I'm late," she called out, cramming as much mixed aggravation and long-suffering resignation into her voice as she could, "but for the record I don't think I should be here at all, so y'know, just jot that down." 

" _You fucking bitch, you're the one who set the fire!_ "

Now, in Catherine’s twenty-odd years of life, she had plenty of experience with being called a bitch. It came with the territory of being not only willing but eager to engage in long and controversial political debates that only occasionally devolved into straight-up fistfights. Because of this, it was more well-worn instinct that anything conscious that had her conversationally replying, “Fuck–”

And then the rest of the other girl’s sentence sunk in, not just the curse. 

“-you?” The exclamation wobbled into a confused upward slant as Cat blinked confusedly, gaze quickly raking over the myriad colorful characters dotted throughout the room. Guy, guy, guy, guy, _girl_ . There was a brief moment of loaded silence in which Cat felt the crushing burden of her sins more acutely than she ever had before, making reluctant eye contact with the very girl who was surely a demon sent from Hell to punish Cat for her crimes against fast-food chain restaurants. _Is this what it feels like to undergo divine judgment?_ she thought faintly. _To have your mistakes follow you around forever, never allowing a single moment of reprieve?_

Alas, she had no time to chew on that spiritual dilemma. Cat allowed the anxious knot lodged firmly in her throat to unravel into a string of bubbling, nervous laughter, swearing to whatever Gods were listening that she would faithfully follow a life of purity and virtue if this actually worked. “Set the fire in your heart, amirite? _Gotta love metaphors_ ,” she bit out through clenched teeth, trying to convey through burning eye-contact alone that if she went down, that bitch was absolutely going down with her. _Don’t be an idiot,_ she prayed, staring deep into the other girl’s golden eyes. _Please don’t be an idiot. Please tell me you understand the concept of mutually assured destruction._ It was depressing that the bar was so low, but for all Cat knew the other girl could’ve ditched class to go on a Gucci shopping spree the day that they were supposed to learn about that in school.

Finally, after a series of agonizing seconds in which the tension rapidly mounted higher and higher like a tower of stones on the verge of toppling, the other girl looked away. “Metaphors,” she tested, lilting voice unfairly pretty for the amount of clear resentment painted across the delicate features of her face. “Yes, it was a metaphor for how… attractive you are.” Those last words held the frankly impressive amount of misery and rage that could only come from a straight girl being forced to entertain the slightest of homoerotic charades. Cat rolled her eyes, grumbling internally all the while. She wasn't _that_ hideous, was she?

It was at this point that she realized everyone else in the room was staring at her, save for Mr. Black, who had stopped doing so after his first moderately interested glance. Honestly, she couldn’t really blame them. She could, however, absolutely blame that girl for being too much of an impulsive dumbass to keep her mouth shut. Didn’t she know that strangers who committed arson together _and didn’t talk about it_ stayed out of jail together?

A manic, enthusiastic clapping shook Cat out of her thoughts, and her gaze tracked the source of the noise to a gangly, malnourished-looking boy with a bloodshot eye. “ _Bravissimo_ ,” he exclaimed in a horribly butchered Italian accent, cracked lips peeling over a wide grin. “If every class starts off as well as this, I might actually want to come!” 

With that, the tension was– well, it wasn't _gone_ , but it was cracked a bit. Cat didn’t answer, slouching her shoulders deeper into her leather jacket and taking the only remaining seat– which, in one of Heaven’s cruel little ironies, happened to be the one right next to that girl. She made sure to keep her eyes firmly focused on the opposite side of the room, and while she couldn’t tell for sure, she had the feeling that the other girl was doing the same.

“Would I be right to assume you’re Catherine Foundling?” Black looked up from his little piece of paper to cast a disinterested yet scrutinizing glance at her, and she gave a tight nod. “Cat is fine,” she replied, keeping her voice as relaxed as she possibly could considering the circumstances. _This is fine,_ she thought, though the words rang false even within the confines of her skull. _Everything is abso-fucking-lutely fine._

“Noted,” Black replied blandly. “Now, if the rest of you would introduce yourselves, we can begin shortly.”

The class made short work of introducing themselves. There was Kairos, the red-eyed boy who she could already tell fancied himself theclass clown; there was William, who she actually already knew from the handful of times she’d served him coffee (black and bitter) at Tikoloshe’s; there was Nauk, a hulking brute of a guy whose pecs, she noticed appreciatively, were awfully chiseled through the tight white T-shirt he wore; there was Anaxares, the old guy who frankly seemed the most normal of the lot; and then, finally, there was Akua Sahelian, who gave her name in a way that implied she thought very strongly that Cat didn’t deserve to hear it. 

“The lesson plan for today instructs us to–” Black quickly skimmed through his paper. “–sit in a circle and talk about the last time we got angry, and why. However, I think it’s safe to say that for two of us, the last time we got angry was in this very classroom.” He turned to Cat and Akua with the slightest hint of amusement thinning his lips, drawing out his gaze so as to make it even _more_ abundantly clear who he was referring to. “Would the two of you mind sharing your perspective on what happened?” he asked innocently.

“Mr. Black,” Akua started, voice laced with a hint of undoubtedly-fabricated hesitation, “I am not sure whether that would be conducive to the discussion. Whatever issues Catherine and I may have are completely separate from this class.”

“Issues that have mostly been resolved, anyhow,” Cat hastily added.

Black hummed, considering. “This class, Ms. Sahelian, is anger management. Would I be incorrect in assuming that both of you were _angry_ during your little outburst?” Cat scowled at one particular scuff mark on the floor as the faintly mocking words washed over her, but she didn’t disagree. There wouldn’t be any point in it except further humiliation. Once the silence had started to stretch a bit too long for comfort, Black allowed a thin smile to slowly break across his pale face. “Wonderful. Let’s hear it, then.”

Cat sighed, running an exasperated hand through her ponytail. She’d been dragged (and admittedly had dragged others) into enough debates to know that any mention of politics whatsoever, no matter how brief, was practically begging for a long and most likely nasty argument. Combine that with the fact that her classmates were not exactly here for their patient temperament and it didn’t take a genius to realize that there would be no peacefully resolving this. Alas, Black had forced her hand. “We had a political disagreement,” she offered cryptically, unwilling to offer any more than that.

“Stemming from?” Black prodded.

“It was a minor quibble, truly,” spoke Akua, and from her silky smooth, reassuring tone of voice Cat almost might’ve believed it. “We were simply debating the benefits of renovating underprivileged areas.” Her tone of voice made it abundantly clear who she thought had ‘won’ their debate, glazed in that sickly-sweet veneer of condescending arrogance, and in that moment Cat despaired because she knew in her heart of hearts she could not let that statement go unchecked. It was simply not in her nature.

“‘Renovating’?” Cat barked a harsh laugh, leaning back in her chair and rubbing a disbelieving hand over her face. “Okay. ‘Renovating’ is not all gentrification does, first of all. Gentrification skyrockets the cost of living, props up soul-sucking billion-dollar chain corporations while suffocating family-run businesses and makes it nearly impossible for the poor people living there to scrape together enough to survive on, _if_ they haven’t already been run out of their homes because of the rent inflation.”

Akua turned a perfectly neutral gaze to Cat and looked her over, gaze lingering on the _FUCK BLUE LIVES_ wristband. “So?”

Cat twitched. “So that’s it? You’re just going to admit you have zero empathy for other human beings?”

Akua sighed the long-suffering sigh of someone who was going to purposely misconstrue the spirit of her opponent’s argument. “Of course not,” she replied, patronization dripping from her words. “I’m merely saying that the benefits outweigh the costs. Surely a few rough spots are worth the reward of elevating entire communities, no? Besides, those ‘soul-sucking billion-dollar chain corporations’ you just mentioned are much more capable of taking on employees and creating job opportunities than tiny local businesses already struggling to stay afloat.”

“Gentrification still isn’t the answer!” Cat scowled. “There are plenty of other ways to inject money into communities without–”

“Your arguments are completely irrelevant,” interrupted a surprisingly deep voice from the side. They both looked, surprised, to Anaxares, who held a nearly manic glint of fervor in his dark brown eyes. “No matter which of your wicked ideologies won, the government would still be oppressing the will of the people by imposing intransigent and undemocratic structures. The simplest solution is thus: ask the people, and listen well.” He then turned to Cat and frowned deeply. “ _You_ are especially repugnant. You shroud yourself within the pretense of democracy but truly you are nothing but a filthy Stalinist masquerading as a bringer of equality while clasping those you might ‘help’ in fetters. Even the fascist is better than you, for she wears her evil plainly.”

Cat stared, at a true loss for words, but Akua had no such problem. “What the fuck did you just call me, you fucking degenerate?” she burst out. “God, it’s honestly fascinating how stupid you are. Your skull is so fucking empty that if someone did a service to society and cut off your misshapen head and tore off your balding scalp, it could be used as a satisfactory replacement for a _bongo_ _drum_!”

All in all, anger management was off to a fantastic start. Things did not reach peak absurdity, however, until after the session was over. That was when Cat got propositioned in possibly the single most insulting way she’d ever heard in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SPOILER ALERT: cat is wrong in assuming akua's straight lmfao. if you want a hint for the next chapter, check the updated tags ;)
> 
> also, i'm fully aware that they're kinda uhh ooc, but i chalk it up to vastly different upbringings than in canon bc of the lack of magic and blood sacrifices and whatnot.


	3. attraction

_Desperate times call for desperate measures._ God, Akua had always hated that phrase. Simply put, it was antithesis to the Sahelian way of doing things, which accounted for every reasonable outcome in a given situation. In an ideal world, desperate times would be calmly countered with a series of intelligent, decisive actions that resulted in a victory scenario with the least possible amount of steps.

This was not an ideal world. Akua had rather miserably come to understand that over the course of the past two and a half days. Within the safety of her own thoughts, she could admit that her first instinctive reaction to Catherine's appearance had been a severe misstep. In her defense, though, she had spent the past forty-eight hours obsessing over every minute detail of that fateful 3am encounter, mentally underlining key moments with a heavy hand - the glint as the spark turned into a blaze, the crashing wave of mixed shock and dread once she realized she wasn't alone - and so the other arsonist's sudden and unwelcome presence had felt more akin to fever dream than reality. Almost as if she'd summoned her own personal demon just by thinking about her too much.

Ugh. _Catherine._ Akua rolled the sound around in her mouth silently, tasting each syllable like she would a 1947 Bordeaux. Altogether it was not an unpleasant name, she decided, bearing a regal and dignified history with just enough hard consonants to avoid feeling flowery. It was a shame, then, that it belonged to a girl who was so clearly intent on embodying the polar opposite of class for no discernable reason other than her petty grudge against the upper echelons of society. The torn faux-leather jacket, the tight black t-shirt plastered with the logo of some hippie band, the various tree-hugging slogans littered around her slight figure in wristbands and acrylic backpack pins - they all contributed to the simultaneously effortless-seeming and carefully cultivated aura of audacity around her. All signs, Akua thought uncharitably, pointed to Catherine putting a significant amount of effort into making sure strangers could immediately guess her political affiliation, but the absolute bare minimum into everything else about her appearance.

What a pity. The other girl could almost be attractive, if she just leaned into her sharp, wolfish features. Almost.

"I suppose that's time," Black announced, glancing at his watch. "Well, class, I'd say it's been a very productive two hours." If Black defined 'productive' as 'chock-full of enough ceaseless, inane bickering to make her seriously question the First Amendment', then Akua wholeheartedly agreed. "Today, as you might have guessed, was somewhat of a trial run. Now that I've gotten more of a read on your personalities, and how you all fare in a conflict-driven environment, I'll be able to gear our lessons towards helping you individually and as a group." 

_'Helping'?_ Akua was very much the type of person who had long since mastered the art of the derisive laugh, and Black's last few words were offensive enough that she was sorely tempted to. The people who had orchestrated this circus farce of a class, and the people who had invented the concept of anger management in general, were nothing more than a parade of buffoons who'd learned to incorrectly use psych vocabulary and hadn't shut up since. Contrary to what Catherine probably thought, Akua had enough self awareness to realize that her thought processes were distinctly different from the general population's. Her goals, her ambitions, and the relentless focus she employed in pursuing them - those were not common attributes, to say the least. But they were _her_ attributes, the cornerstones of her personality, and she did not take kindly to people like Black attempting to change that. Akua Sahelian was not ordinary. She was never meant to be. Embracing the comfortable dullness of conformity would be a betrayal of the highest order, the only betrayal she could never countenance.

No, Akua decided grimly, she could not suffer through this indignity any longer. Desperate times really did call for desperate measures, apparently, and this was the most desperate time of all. She would get herself out of anger management no matter what it cost. To the left, Catherine was slouched in her seat, giving a stifled yawn and stretching idly with her fingers laced behind her head. The t-shirt she was wearing rode up with the motion, exposing a tan slice of toned midriff and–

Akua looked away immediately. Of course she did. For her gaze to linger would be utterly shameful. And yet, somewhere deep within the undecipherable recesses of her mind, a plan was brewing.

…

"Foundling. Hello." It was remarkably easy to out-pace the other girl as they walked out of the classroom, long strides lending her the speed needed to corner Catherine next to the elevator. She allowed herself to feel the slightest sliver of amusement that it was probably attributable to her superior height before rearranging her features into a carefully neutral mask.

"Oh my _fucking_ god," the other girl groaned, lightly slapping her palm against her face. "Not you again. Look, whatever ridiculously horrible thing you want to say, don't say it. I've already had too many damn arguments today." Akua's mouth narrowed into a slight frown at the mention of that earlier disaster, various unflattering synonyms of the words ‘commie scum' flitting across her mind, but she regained control of herself quickly enough. There would be time later to figure out who exactly that Anaxares was and the optimal steps required to destroy him utterly. For now, she had to focus on finding a way to ask out the girl in front of her without being immediately rejected. 

"Do you want to stay in anger management?" she started simply.

Catherine looked at her suspiciously, leaning back slightly on her heels with an expression that made it abundantly clear that there was not even the slightest pretense of trust between them. "Is this some kind of trick question?" She asked finally, brow raised. "I'm not that dumb, you know. If you're planning on reporting back to Black like a good little teacher's pet and telling him that I said something naughty, forget about it."

"It is not, in fact, a trick question," Akua replied inscrutably, though internally she was just a tad irritated. _Really? 'Teacher's pet'? How very mature of her to say._ "I am merely asking because I have a proposition on how both of us could leave early."

"A proposition," Catherine repeated skeptically. "You know, I don't have parents but if I did, I feel like they would've told me to stay away from obviously shady, filthy rich girls with questionable moral compasses." 

Akua suppressed the little jolt of satisfaction that flickered up her spine at the other girl's offhand assessment and shrugged lightly. "It's just a proposal. You're under no obligation to accept." 

Cat stayed silent for a few more moments, looking at her with a burning focus. Almost as if she were trying to decipher Akua's true intentions within the angles of her face. Eventually she relented, giving a vaguely displeased sigh and waving her hand. "Go on, then." Then in a lower, snarky tone: "This ought to be good."

"It's rather simple, really," Akua hummed. "The goal of anger management is to impart improved socialization skills on us. As you might have noticed, Black has singled us out as prime examples of volatile personalities. Personal feelings aside, what better way is there to prove that we've gotten better at managing our feelings than to kiss and make up?"

Cat blinked. "Uh… metaphorically?"

"No. Gods, what is it with you and metaphors? I'm referring to an extended public act, something to the tune of two or three weeks. Just long enough to get out of Black's class early."

Long seconds stretched on without a response. Honestly, Akua had no idea why the other girl was looking at her like that, with the ridiculous slack-jawed expression that made her look remarkably similar to a dumbfounded puppy. What she had proposed was a reasonable course of action, given the unreasonable circumstances. Finally, Catherine managed to scrape together enough neurons to reply.

"You're talking about us _dating_ . Fake dating. I…" Cat slapped her mouth with a hand and muttered a few things into her palm, none of which Akua suspected were particularly kind. "God. Fucking rich people. _Fucking_ rich people," she repeated with feeling, inflecting the one curse with more emotion than certain actors put into entire movies. "Yeah, no. Not going to happen."

Akua raised a meticulously arched eyebrow. "Why not? I know you find me attractive. You've been staring at my chest for the past two hours." That wasn't true, actually, but it wasn't meant to be. She carefully tracked Catherine's reaction - blushing, furious disagreement with a telling flicker of panic that implied she _could've_ done it. _As I suspected. Not a smidge of heterosexuality in that five-foot-nothing figure._

"I- well, how about you?" Cat crossed her arms defensively, a fetching tinge of red still spread out on her cheeks and ears. "Do you even like…?" She gestured vaguely to herself, chewing on her bottom lip. "I mean. I thought you were straight." 

"Just because I'm conservative? Wow. That's not very _inclusive_ of you." Admittedly, Akua was having a fantastic time yanking Catherine's chain. The other girl opened her mouth to reply, thought better of it, and then opened her mouth again three separate times before eventually pointing out, "That still doesn't answer my question."

Actually, it wasn't a bad question to ask. Akua raked over Catherine's figure with the detached interest of a scientist dissecting a bug. The shorter girl had some redeeming attributes, that was true. The sharply angled cast of her face and strong nose bridge made for a striking combination, and her hair - tied in a ponytail as it was - seemed healthy and well-taken-care of. She was toned in the fluid, lean way that swimmers often were, though the particular definition in her biceps and the calluses on her hands implied she was more involved in boxing. No, Catherine was not a conventional beauty, but she had a certain magnetic aura all the same: she was built ground-up with those fierce, hard lines that models so often had, but without any of the height that the runway required.

Oh, and she had a great ass. Akua supposed that was important too. "You're attractive enough," she finally replied. "Even if you weren't, it wouldn't matter."

"That's very kind of you to say," Catherine replied sarcastically. "My answer's still no."

"No? I can make it worth your while." Akua realized a moment too late that her remark could've come off as suggestive, so she hastily added, "To be clear, I'm talking about bribery. Money, jewelry, tuition. Whatever you want, I can get it for you."

Catherine boggled at her. "I don't want a fucking sugar daddy, Sahelian. Look, I'm not talking about this anymore. Especially not with _you_." The last sentence ended with a deep scowl, hands balled deep inside her jacket pockets.

Akua turned away with a subtle toss of her head. Not a 'shampoo advertisement' kind of head toss, that would be gauche, but a 'I am disappointed in your answer and also I am very attractive' kind of head toss. She felt the tan girl's gaze unconsciously catching on the defined line of her jaw, the cupid's-bow curve of her lips, and this time she allowed her satisfaction to consume her whole. _Sucker._

"Very well," she sighed, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear and pressing the up button next to the elevator. "It's your prerogative if you like routinely arguing with people who have the collective IQ of a particularly daft beta fish. I suppose I'll just have to execute my plan with someone else." 

_Three._

The muted sound of the elevator rapidly hurtling down the shaft was akin to the ticking of a bomb, oppressive silence rapidly filling the space between them until it started to itch. Akua, of course, was completely aloof, gaze distinctly turned away from the other girl. 

_Two._

_Ding._ The faint chime of the elevator signaled the end of the waiting as thick steel doors opened like the jaw of some clockwork beast. Akua stepped in, feigning disinterest as she started scrolling through her phone. Ah yes. 211 new followers on Instagram and a handful of thirsty DMs. It was interesting, really, that some people still believed they had any kind of chance whatsoever with her. Especially since she'd made a point of publicly humiliating the especially degenerate ones. _The idiocy of horny fools truly is boundless,_ she thought disdainfully, halfway through looking up Catherine's handle when she heard exactly the word she had been anticipating:

"Wait."

Akua smiled. _One._

...

**Akua's messages, later on that day.**

_[Unknown Number]: hey_

_[Unknown Number]: this is catherine foundling. you know, from anger management._

_[Unknown Number]: gods please tell me you gave me the right #_

_[You]: I did. I also told you only to contact me for emergencies, Foundling._

_[Foundling]: yeah first of all don't call me that_

_[Foundling]: it's weird, it makes you sound like one of those dumb broody guys in YA novels_

_[Foundling]: my name is cat. use it._

_[You]: Fine. I expect you'll call me Akua, then._

_[Catherine]: of course. only the best for my girlfriend_

_[Catherine]: anyway this IS an emergency_

_[Catherine]: i accidentally told my friend indrani that i'm dating someone new and she's roped me into a double date with her bf_

_[Catherine]: i guess the act starts now._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> fucking finally the fake dating plot arrives lmao


	4. improvisation

Cat had always been obsessed with stories. As a child, she'd meticulously draw comics on spare pieces of scrap paper and staple their edges together so she could pretend she was a real author, keeping the makeshift books safe in a securely zipped compartment of her backpack. When she became a little older, she traded her stashes of marbles and baseball cards with the other kids in exchange for actual books, mostly secondhand with torn and faded pages but precious all the same. She'd read and reread the same lines, the same bits of dialogue, immersing herself in a world of ink and paper that somehow felt more real than her shallow reality of getting carted around from foster home to foster home. Stagnant, unchanging and yet reliable characters provided the family she needed when she was too young to seek out her own, and the pleasure she took in cracking open a good novel was one of the few things she kept as she eventually grew into adulthood.

Anyway, as one might expect, her undiscriminating thirst for good literature resulted in her flipping through quite a bit of romance over the course of her relatively short life. She wasn't eager to admit it, of course - she had a reputation to uphold, and besides she'd always preferred to align herself with brawlers over the more sentimental types - but still she had a decent enough understanding of love stories, and indeed enough common sense, to realize that putting her fake girlfriend and her friend-with-benefits in the same room was not exactly a good idea. Unfortunately for her, the universe didn't seem to get the memo. That was why she was awkwardly standing outside of the local family-owned brunch restaurant, leaning against her bike and anxiously waiting for her fellow arsonist to arrive when really she should've been binge-watching trashy TV shows with Hakram in their shared tiny apartment right about now. 

Cat frowned deeply, adjusting her earbuds with one hand and checking her phone for the umpteenth time in the other. They'd already confirmed the time and location an hour ago, and there didn't seem to be any issues then, so what could possibly be taking Akua so long? Honestly, it wasn't a difficult question to answer. With the frankly repulsive amounts of money the other girl had, there was a decent chance she was taking an extended money bath within a solid gold jacuzzi, or whatever else it was that the top 0.1% did when they weren't having fun crushing the rest of the population underfoot. After the fever-dream-like encounter the day before, Cat had taken the initiative of Googling Akua's mother to see just what kind of person could raise such a fucked up kid, and as it turned out Tasia Sahelian was absolutely-

" _Jesus fuck!_ " She yanked her earbuds out, spinning around defensively in surprise only to be greeted with the vaguely annoyed visage of the person who had tapped her shoulder. 

"You're late," Akua said flatly, in a tone of voice that implied it was an unforgivable crime. 

Cat was genuinely worried her brows might become permanently affixed to her hairline with the amount of eyebrow-raising she was doing. " _I'm_ late? I've been waiting for you here for like fifteen minutes."

Akua frowned. "How is that possible- oh. I suppose you were waiting on this side of the building." There was a brief pause, and Cat actually thought the other girl might deign to apologize for the accusation, but no such thing happened. "...Clearly the fault lies with the architect, who idiotically provided two entrances so as to purposely confound the patrons."

Cat supposed that was the closest thing to a peace treaty that she was going to get, so despite her many glaring objections with basically every single word Akua had said, she offered a noncommittal shrug. "Yeah, whatever. We can discuss your oddly specific loathing for user-friendly buildings later." Cat spared a glance to the mostly empty parking lot, and since she didn't see the tell-tale glint of Indrani's cherry-red motorcycle yet, she decided it was safe to keep talking for a few more minutes. "Okay. So. If we're gonna fake date, you have to follow some rules."

Akua looked puzzled for a brief moment before letting out a full-throated laugh. " _Of course_ you have rules. Considering how much you flirt with anarchism, I wouldn't have thought you'd set guidelines for something as supposedly free as relationships, but-"

"Yeah, yeah, leftist hypocrisy, blah blah. First of all, I'm not an anarchist. I'm not going to elaborate right now because I don't want to be dragged into a screaming argument in yet another parking lot - seriously, at this rate I'm going to have a reputation - but we _are_ going to talk about that later because I cannot stand the idea of you purposely misrepresenting my political positions." Akua opened her mouth. Cat raised a finger, putting as much threatening energy as she could into that one minute gesture. 

"Look, I know you haven't exactly had much experience with it, but I am asking you from the bottom of my heart to shut the fuck up. Just until I'm done talking, and then I promise you can go back to being an insufferable bitch." She paused, and since - miracles of miracles - Akua didn't decide to interrupt with a snippy comment, she continued. "Alright, so. Indrani knows as well as I do that I'd never date anyone with even a whiff of centrist tendencies, much less a full-blooded Republican. So for the like sixty minutes that we're gonna be in that brunch place together, I want you to do me a favor and just… don't bring up anything too problematic. _Please_." 

While Cat hadn't ever had to moderate heated Thanksgiving political discussions, on account of the whole orphan thing, she imagined very vividly that this was what it probably felt like. Trying to reason with a rabid dog, except arguably worse because rabid dogs generally did not go on long tangents spouting the praises of 'traditional family values'.

Akua scoffed. "You think _I_ can't keep my opinions to myself? Which one of us set an abandoned fast-food restaurant on fire because she was just _so_ overcome with righteous fury against the billionaire class, again?" 

"Which one of us set an abandoned fast-food restaurant on fire because she decided to vent her mommy issues through arson instead of weird fetish porn like everyone else, again? Burning down a Wendy's isn't going to make your parents love you, you know." 

Akua's face stilled, suddenly, and a flash of anger rawer than Cat had ever seen in her passed through her eyes before being immediately put out with a wave of impenetrable calm. "Alright. Since we're on the topic of rules, I have one for you. Don't fucking talk about my mom. Understand?" Cat opened her mouth, deeply-ingrained retaliatory instinct nagging at her to push the envelope just a little more, but she swallowed the impulse with a surprising amount of guilt. Talking about Tasia clearly bothered the other girl on more levels than just familial pride, and while Cat could not honestly say she had the kindest of hearts, staying away from sadism was a low fucking bar. 

"Sure," she replied finally. "That's fair." 

The other girl took a deep breath, running a manicured hand through her perfectly coiffed hair before smiling sweetly. "Thank you," she said, and though her voice was pleasant, it also held an undeniable distance. Abruptly, Cat found herself wishing she was being talked to in the flippant, arrogant tone Akua had used earlier. It was annoying as fuck, obviously, but it also felt more personal. Like the other girl regarded her as enough of an equal to actually argue with her, instead of just silently writing her off.

They stewed in their own awkwardness for a few more long, excruciating moments. Some part of Cat wondered whether she should apologize for her earlier fuck-up. It would just be weird at this point, right? And honestly she was skeptical that the other girl would even accept an apology in the first place. No, it would just be better for both of them to pretend it never happened. It wasn't like she even really cared what Akua thought about her, anyway.

...Ugh. Fuck. Goddammit. The sad truth was that she did care, apparently, because if she didn't she wouldn't even be thinking about this. Shaking her head vigorously, she resolved to put off thinking about that particular issue for a little while longer. Shouldn't be too hard. Procrastinating was her specialty.

“Okay, you know what?” Cat finally blurt out, unwilling to tolerate the crushing silence any longer. “Fuck the rules. Uh, fuck _my_ rules at least. Yours are fine. Whatever, what I’m trying to say is, I don’t know why this didn’t occur to me before but I don’t actually… need to lie to Masego and Indrani. They’re like, some of my best friends of all time. They’ll understand. Actually, Masego probably won’t really understand, but he’ll be supportive. So… new plan. I’ll explain everything to them once we’re in there together. And then we’ll all play along but there won’t be any real pressure because they’ll know it’s fake anyway. Capiche?”

Akua hummed ambiguously. “Do you trust them?” She asked lightly.

“Yes,” Cat replied without hesitation.

“Do you trust them with your life?”

Cat blinked. “Yes,” she replied again, not quite sure where this was going.

“Well, then, that’s good enough for me,” Akua decided. “Now, let’s get this farce over with.” And together they walked into the metaphorical maw of the dragon.

...

  
  


The restaurant was decorated tastefully, in Cat's opinion. The walls were painted a wholesome pale yellow and were studded with various framed black-and-white photographs of celebrities who had visited over the years, and the 50's style decor - old-school Coca Cola machines, jukeboxes, checkerboard flooring - paid homage to the only good part about a frankly awful era. Overall, Cat thought, the entire place had a calming ambiance, as if she were being transported into a mellower, pastel-painted alternate reality where good food and rock music could wash away all her worries and qualms with the world. 

It was too bad, then, that the generally impeccable vibe of this place was being ruined by the overwhelming amount of stress and awkwardness that came with having to pretend she had even the slightest speck of affection for a girl who was the antithesis of everything she believed in. 

They walked in, picked out a booth, and everything went downhill from there. She sat next to Akua, since that was what was expected of her, and the cramped seating shoved them together just slightly closer than Cat was strictly comfortable with. Elbows were jabbing into wrong places, their knees knocked together with even the slightest movement, and while normally she wouldn't complain about getting up close and personal with an admittedly gorgeous girl, this particular situation was not exactly conducive to those kinds of feelings.

"Why are you so fucking tall?" she muttered under her breath to Akua, trying and failing to hide the petulant resentment laced through her voice.

Akua scanned the diner with a faintly disgusted expression. "Most CEOs are over six feet," she replied offhandedly.

"That… literally does not answer the question at all?"

"Let's just say that my family has a proclivity for perfection. We’ve done well for ourselves over the course of many generations.” Cat blinked in surprise, the implications of that slowly sinking in. Did... did the Sahelians actually unironically practice eugenics? Was that what Akua was so proud of? Because if so, she was even more fucked up in the head than Cat had initially thought. And her previous estimation had not been flattering to begin with. Before she could dwell on _that_ particular disturbing thought any longer, though, the other girl continued. 

“Not that I'd expect you to know anything about family, what with the whole orph- '' She stopped herself halfway through the sentence before looking closely at Cat. "Are your parents a sensitive topic for you?"

"No," Cat replied. "But would it matter if they were?"

"Of course," Akua replied, tone implying that the answer was so obvious that her estimation of Cat's intelligence dropped another notch for even daring to ask. "For all intents and purposes, we're business partners. It would be crass of me to bruise your ego more than absolutely necessary."

"I- you probably spent, like, a good three hours in total just roasting my political stances."

"It was for your own good," the other girl dismissed. "You were tragically misinformed, and because I am very kind I was simply rectifying your incorrect opinions." Akua met Cat's gaze for a solid twenty seconds, face blank enough to be one of those carved stone statues, and it took a depressing amount of time for Cat to realize she was being played.

"Fuck," she bit out finally, more than a little betrayed. "You're not supposed actually have a sense of humor, damn it."

Akua didn’t reply, and Cat was on the verge of seriously considering whether that particular insult had been the tipping point and now she was being given the silent treatment when the other girl spoke up. “2 o’clock,” she murmured, voice only a fraction as loud as it had been earlier. “No, don’t look. It’s Black.”

“Wh- _anger management_ Black?”

Cat looked. Just a quick glance to make sure that Akua wasn't fucking with her. Sadly, Akua was not, in fact, fucking with her. Mr. Black was right there, almost perfectly diagonal to them, dressed in a casual button-up and talking amicably to some threatening-looking woman. Discomfort roiled in her stomach, bitter and acrid, for more reasons than just the usual dissonance of seeing a teacher while out in public.

“This… is bad,” she said finally. 

“No shit, Sherlock,” Akua snarked back.

“No, I mean, this is _really_ bad.” Cat continued urgently under her breath, pressing closer to the other girl so as to make their conversation as lowkey as possible. “It fucks with the plan. If Black is here, we can’t explain a thing to Masego and Indrani. We’re gonna actually have to-”

" _Holy fucking shit,_ " came a boisterous voice from behind them, and Cat had precious little time to worry about how much Indrani had heard before it continued. "Cat, my friend. You fucking _scored._ "

Cat opened her mouth to reply - to say what, exactly, she didn't know, but it was probably something along the lines of "for the love of God could you _please_ tone down your horniness for two seconds" - but Akua was quicker.

"You must be Indrani," she said pleasantly, affixing a polite smile to her face. "Cat's told me about you." 

"All very flattering things, I'm sure," Indrani replied agreeably. "I keep telling her to stop singing my praises, but alas, she can't help it when she sees just how witty, beautiful and talented-"

"I have a question," Cat interrupted very seriously. "Did some tragic past event steal your dignity from you, or were you born without it?"

Masego cleared his throat to the side, pushing up his thick glasses with a vaguely displeased expression. "I understand that mutual public humiliation is a sacred ritual for both of you, but could we get to the eating part so I can go home? I have a very important project I need to work on." 

Ah, Masego. Ever the voice of reason. That served as a cue for everyone to settle down, which seemed like a good thing until Cat remembered that Indrani was going to spend every second of every minute cross-examining her new 'relationship' until the waiter arrived. _Genuinely, unequivocally, fuck you Black,_ she thought emphatically. _Specifically, fuck you for daring to exist outside of the classroom._

"So, where did you meet?" Indrani asked innocently, leaning over the table with her fingers steepled under her chin. Cat looked at Akua. Akua looked at Cat. Abruptly, Akua squeezed the other girl's hand tightly underneath the table before replying, "I bumped into her at work."

Oh. That was actually kind of clever. Cat tightened her own grip briefly before adding, "Yeah, she was ordering coffee at Tikoloshe's and I, uh…" She coughed, trying desperately to stall for time until she came up with a reasonable explanation. Fuck, this acting thing was more difficult than she'd expected. "...I wrote my number on her cup." She wouldn't have ever _actually_ done that, of course, it was ridiculously unprofessional, but it was the best thing she could come up with in approximately three and a half seconds.

"Coffee-shop meet cute, huh? Classic," Indrani drawled. "Not quite as iconic as how you met Hanno, but not bad at all."

Akua turned to Cat with a curiosity that was more than just for show. "Hanno?"

 _Indrani,_ Cat thought cheerfully to herself, _one of these days I am going to murder you in your sleep_. "He's my ex-boyfriend," she reluctantly replied. "We met while volunteering at a soup kitchen."

"Of _course_ that's where you'd meet a prospective partner," muttered Akua in an indecipherable tone, and she might've expanded on what the hell _that_ was supposed to mean had a waiter not chosen that exact moment to take their orders. Cat asked for a giant stack of waffles, of course, because she had impeccable taste, and no amount of judgemental glances from her fake girlfriend was going to convince her otherwise. Akua's gaze flicked faintly to the waiter before giving a dismissive shake of her head, not even bothering to glance over the laminated menu in front of her. "Crepes, please."

The waiter hesitated. "Uh... sorry, ma'am, but we don't have that here." A moment of silence. "Would you like pancakes instead?"

Akua stared blankly at him. "I'm sorry," she said, though her voice very much implied she expected someone else to apologize. "Did you just equate crepes to those sad, pathetic, sugar-loaded frisbees you call-"

Cat squeezed her hand underneath the table hard. _Not here,_ she mouthed furiously, nails biting deep into the other girl's hand, and Akua shot her a mild glare before leaning back, yanking her fingers from Cat's grasp, and crossing her arms.

"Would it be too presumptuous of me to assume that you have salad?" she asked, voice dripping with so much cutting sardonicism that the poor waiter would probably have nightmares about this day for years to come. 

"Uh… no." He shuffled awkwardly in place for a few moments before hesitantly adding, "Is a Caesar okay?"

"I assume it's of the same quality as everything else here." 

That seemed like a good enough answer for the waiter, who scribbled something down on his little notepad before hurriedly striding away from their booth. Cat turned to Akua with a frown.

"Why are you getting a salad at a brunch place?"

"Why are you questioning my dietary choices?" A moment passed before Akua decided to tack on, "Dearest?" 

Masego squinted at them over his spectacles. "You do not seem to overly enjoy each other's company," he said slowly. "I am given to understand that couples are supposed to enjoy each other's company, yes?" 

Cat's smile calcified on her face. _Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUCK._ "Actually, this is perfectly normal," she said tightly. "Banter is uh… a good thing. It's healthy."

"Oh, absolutely," Akua agreed. "It's a sign of mutual respect and affection. Catherine, darling, you know I would never purposely hurt your feelings." Cat twitched. _Oh Gods. Not more pet names._ Then, in case those incredibly heartfelt words weren't convincing enough, Akua delicately placed her hand on Cat's waist. She smiled, the very picture of a doting girlfriend, and though her soul was shriveling up and dying inside her chest Cat forced herself to smile back. 

_At least I have waffles,_ she thought. Small mercies.

…

The rest of the date passed relatively not-terribly, in Cat's humble opinion. Indrani was too preoccupied with gorging herself on whipped cream and maple syrup to be too much of a nuisance, and Masego seemed to have taken their flimsy explanation at face value. That was the good news. The bad news was that now Cat and Akua were both very acutely aware that they were on thin fucking ice with regards to the plausibility of their little act.

"He doesn’t believe us," Akua declared once they’d gotten reasonably far away from the restaurant, glancing back at Black who had coincidentally decided to leave at the exact same time. He and the woman were looking intently at them from across the parking lot and discussing something, though she couldn't make out the words. "Plausible deniability only goes so far, and _this-_ " She gestured between the two of them. "-is barely plausible."

"You act like you're not the one who came up with this ridiculous plan in the first place," Cat pointed out, unsure whether she should be amused or annoyed. "Besides, the date's over. Not much we can do to convince them now."

Akua remained silent for a few more moments before muttering, "Well, there is _one_ thing." And then, before Cat could ask what she meant by that, she leaned forward, tilted her chin with deft fingers, and kissed her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i wrote this entire thing when i was sick with a 104 degree fever so i attribute the fact that it's readable at all to my amazing beta, fayhem
> 
> also you don't know how long i've been waiting for that last bit lol


	5. method

It was very fortuitous, Akua thought, that her seat and Catherine's seat were placed so closely together. During the brief amount of time where she had been allowed to visibly hate the other girl, she'd despaired at their proximity, but now she now realized that it provided a hidden benefit: indeed, the fact that they were a mere six inches away from each other would make it extremely easy for her to hold the other girl's hand.

Akua smiled graciously at Mr. Black as she and Catherine entered the anger management room, tugging along the shorter girl by the wrist like a benevolent pet owner might prod a reluctant puppy. Catherine, for her part, seemed about as happy with the physical contact as she was with the entire fake dating scheme as a whole - which was to say, she seemed absolutely miserable and, from the scowl etched deeply on her tan face, was quite possibly planning homicide - but to her credit she did not protest. (To be clear, Akua could not care less about whether the other girl actually was planning homicide, as long as it didn't interfere with their arrangement.) Catherine's newfound tolerance for public displays of affection was pleasing but not particularly a surprise; over the past weekend, they had slowly begun to settle into their roles, texting frequently to cement the details of their supposed relationship. Also, hand holding probably seemed positively tame in comparison to…

Once again, Akua found her mind dragged unwillingly back to that little stunt in the parking lot. Honestly, the act itself was hardly important. She had done her very best to keep the kiss as chaste as physically possible, angling herself in such a way that it was more like their faces were briefly pressed together than anything remotely intimate, and for the duration of it she was too busy counting down the seconds to actually focus on the experience. Not that she would have any particular reason to focus in the first place. Catherine Foundling, while somewhat attractive, could not even begin to compare to the variety of men and women she had dallied around with. The only thing that made the kiss memorable was the fact that it was all part of her elaborate scheme to dupe Black, and she had spent the previous few days stewing on whether it had been  _ enough _ . Had there been enough passion? Had it been strange that she’d placed her hand on Catherine’s hip? Was seven seconds too long for a kiss to go on? So many questions, and hardly any answers. Until now.

Since Black was currently typing away at his laptop and refusing to look at them, Akua scanned the rest of the room instead. Six cheap blue plastic chairs were arranged in a loose semicircle, identical to the last time. Unlike last time, though, there was only one person sitting.  _ William Greenbury _ , the part of her mind where she stored unimportant people's names supplied helpfully. He looked somber as ever, though this time he had cast aside the trench coat in favor of a black V-neck with some kind of mutilated angel design on the front.  _ Undoubtedly from the clearance aisle at Hot Topic _ , thought Akua uncharitably.

"Hey." Catherine nudged her, then took a half-step closer. When her lips were about an inch from Akua's ear, she whispered, "I don't actually have anything to say. But we've gotta act more couple-y in front of Black, right?"

Akua smiled, partially for show and partially because she was pleasantly surprised that Cat was actually taking the initiative. She let a surprised laugh erupt from her throat, as if the other girl had said something both funny and utterly inappropriate, and playfully swatted Cat on the arm. 

"Ow," muttered the other girl under her breath. "That actually hurt."

"I don't care," Akua replied, voice equally low, but there was no real bite to it.

Truth be told, this tenuous stalemate between the two of them was more of a convenient side-effect than anything truly  _ required _ . Even if Akua found herself deeply regretting this arrangement - and there was plenty of time for that to still happen - they were already in too deep to back out. There was no feasible way to disentangle themselves from their spiderweb of lies at this point, and she knew it, and Cat knew it. Black had, after all, already seen them at that crumbling shack disguised as a brunch restaurant. To back out now would essentially be admitting that they'd lied through their teeth, and while that was absolutely true, Akua had learned at a very young age to never admit to wrongdoing. She was not going to start now when that key lesson had gotten her so very far in life.

Mr. Black's gaze slid down onto their intertwined fingers, clearly somewhat uncomfortable, and Akua fought valiantly to prevent her smile from turning smug and mocking.  _ That's right,  _ she gloated internally.  _ I managed my anger so well that I obtained a girlfriend in the process.  _ She was sure that no one else in this pathetic excuse of a class had ever been so prodigious so rapidly; soon, Black would have no other recourse than to release them from their shackles and-

Cat flopped down onto her seat with a long-suffering sigh, the unexpected backward force causing Akua to stumble back into her plastic chair as well. Once she regained her bearings, she wrenched her hand from Catherine's and shot her an annoyed look. Would it really kill the other girl to be the slightest bit more considerate toward her fake girlfriend? From the fact that Cat graced her with a noncommittal 'sorry-not-sorry'-type shrug instead of even pretending to be remotely apologetic, the answer was apparently yes. 

Black shuffled a small pile of papers on his desk and scribbled a few notes in red pen at the top before standing up from his seat. "I'm going to refill my thermos," he said finally, looking as if he was loathe to leave the room with them for even a few minutes. "I will be back before class starts. Do not get into a fight."

After the door clicked shut in his wake, there was blessed silence for a grand total of five seconds before someone spoke up.

"Wait." William looked to them with an expression on his face that indicated he wasn't entirely sure whether he cared enough about his question to expend the energy to keep talking. "Are you two together?" Before Akua could give an enthusiastic affirmative - Black, after all, was just outside, and he may still be able to hear them - Cat nodded somberly, in the same way one would nod if asked whether their dead relative had passed. 

Akua twitched. And they had started so well, too, she mourned.

"And weren't you guys arguing, like… pretty intensely last time we were here?" 

Cat nodded again, brushing back the few stray strands of hair fallen loose from her ponytail. "We've resolved our issues," she answered vaguely. "Politics… aren't everything."

_ Wow _ , Akua thought, undecided on whether she was utterly horrified or mildly impressed.  _ It actually looked like saying those words caused her physical pain.  _ She resisted the urge to make a quip about centrism, because getting into a fistfight with her fake girlfriend would not bode well for the rest of their relationship, and instead smiled at William. "We're more similar than you might expect," she said cryptically.

"I thought that was obvious," said William, looking very flatly unimpressed. "It takes a certain type of person to get into a screaming match in the class where you're supposed to learn how to control your urges to scream. On the first day." From the tone of his voice, Akua could glean that he did not think very highly of the type of people he was talking about. He sighed, then snorted and leaned back. "Didn't your parents ever teach you any manners?"

The smile on Akua's face froze, instantaneously, and then turned perhaps just the slightest bit predatory.

"I believe I read an article a few months ago about you, William," she replied brightly. "Didn't you break a man's jaw and three of his ribs because he insulted your sister?" She paused for a moment, stewing in faux contemplation, before continuing. "Ah, no, I misremembered. My apologies. You broke  _ four _ ." She tapped her fingers in a sharp staccato beat on the knee draped across her leg, and perhaps it was overly sadistic of her but watching the look of pure rage seizing William's face was one of the most pleasurable things she'd experienced that entire week. "I shudder to think of the values your parents espoused, if you thought that was even remotely acceptable."

William shot out of his seat, abruptly, right hand curled at his side as if he were considering what kind of punch to throw. Before he could say anything to escalate the conflict, though, Cat barged in. "Really, Willy? You like hypocrisy so much that you're willing to pick a fight on the second session of anger management, which is basically the same thing you bitched at us for doing?"

The look on William's face as he snapped his attention to the shorter girl was positively murderous. Cat didn't seem to notice.  _ Good _ , thought Akua. The boy's little tantrum was, after all, about as threatening as a baby sea otter when compared to the glares she routinely threw at Cat. 

"She-"

Cat interrupted again. "Is the most annoying person to ever blight the halls of Ater U and quite possibly the entire world? I wholeheartedly agree." Akua, for her part, was doing her best to telepathically communicate to the other girl that they were, in fact, still fake dating. Just in case the other girl's lone neuron had somehow forgotten that in the span of two minutes. 

"Her ridiculously aggravating personality isn't exactly an excuse, though," Cat continued. "I mean, she was being a real jackass to me too. No, that's not fair to donkeys. I guess I could just call her a grade-A asshole, but knowing her she'd manage to spin it into something fl–"

"Catherine, darling," Akua replied sweetly and not at all threateningly, "would you mind telling me where all of this is going?"

Cat coughed. "Right, well, what I was going to say is that despite her character flaws… her  _ numerous  _ character flaws… she is still my girlfriend and so I am still legally obligated to punch you in the face if you keep talking shit. No offence." She smiled winningly at William, who currently seemed less mad about the whole situation and more disgusted.   
  
"You're fucking crazy," he finally settled on saying, before dropping back down into his seat with finality. "Both of you. Fucking insane. Guess you deserve each other."

On that cheerful note, Black walked back into the room with a freshly filled thermos. He looked at them, briefly, scanned their hostile postures and the palpable tension in the air. "You fought," he said. There was no room for debate in his tone; it was perfectly neutral, as if he were simply stating an elementary fact.

"Was it that obvious?" asked Cat wryly.

"Yes," Black replied. "Also, these walls aren't as thick as you seem to think." Then he put down the thermos at his desk, settled into his chair, and remained silent until the rest of the students had trickled in. Akua was moderately surprised to see that Kairos had voluntarily chosen to attend class for the second time, though she supposed it made sense in a twisted way. The boy was an attention leech, and during the two-hour blocks of anger management he had in essence a captive audience which he could offend as much as he wanted.

Once everyone was seated, Black stood up and took a sip from his thermos. "Do you know why you are here?" He asked mildly.

"'Cause we were mad?" guessed Nauk with a shrug.

"Incorrect," said Black. "Anger is a natural human emotion to experience, and attempting to suppress it entirely will likely result in you being sent to another mental health class. Try again."

"We're here because we were mad  _ and we got caught _ ," drawled Kairos, feverish red eye glinting under a dark wave of curls. "That's it, isn't it? You bigwigs couldn't care less about our 'emotional turmoil' as long as we shut up and keep it to ourselves and don't make a fuss." He spread his arms out invitingly. "Am I wrong?"

To her complete and utter surprise, Akua agreed with him. Ultimately, appearances were all that mattered. As long as the persona was pristine, no one cared about whatever ugliness may lie beneath - she knew that firsthand. It was, after all, the core principle behind her 'relationship' with Catherine. Yes, if there was one thing that her mother had taught her, it was that the truth ceased being important when it ceased being useful. 

"Not quite, Mr. Theodosian," Black calmly answered. "While it is true that the majority of you were assigned to this class because you acted out in public, that is only a symptom of a deeper problem. If I taught you all how to improve your poker faces, or perhaps how to use less provocative language, that might very well improve your outward demeanor. You may even be pleasant to be around. And yet, once the doors shut and you were back in the privacy of your own home, you would be no more mentally stable than how you started. In fact, without an outlet for your unsurmountable anger, you may turn to abusing drugs or alcohol or all those other petty vices out there."

Akua was absolutely certain that at least one person in the class was already abusing drugs and/or alcohol, but she wisely kept her mouth shut.

"Here is the truth." Black was fixing them with a hard stare, now. "Anger can be good. Every single one of the most successful people in the world has had a drive: an unceasing motivator that kept pushing them past what society considers normal, to the point of obsession, to the point where they would move the world or die trying. Anger can be this motivator. Is it the most healthy? No. I think it would probably be better to be fueled by the power of love. But not all of us are so inclined."

There was a smattering of laughter, but it quickly died out under the weight of Black's oppressive, unblinking gaze. Akua glanced over to her right to see how the other girl was taking the teacher's impromptu monologue, and interestingly enough Cat had the same expression as a math major being forced to retake second-grade multiplication: that was to say, she looked like she had already figured all this out a long time ago and was itching to tell Black exactly that. This wasn't groundbreaking new information for either of them, Akua thought dismissively. The Wendy's incident was proof enough of how potent a motivator anger could be.

"We all want to change something," said Black quietly. "It doesn't have to be society or the government or other people. It can be as simple as wanting to change your own life. And you know what anger is?" He paused for a split-second, long enough to get the effect across but not long enough for Kairos to interrupt, before continuing. "Anger is a  _ catalyst _ . The catalyst for negative things, usually, but it does not have to be that way. Not for you. The underlying issue, you see, is that you have difficulty channeling your anger into productive means.  _ That _ is what I will be attempting to teach. And if I succeed, well, I think the world will be seeing great things from each of you."

"I think I understand what you are trying to say," Anaxares spoke up slowly, looking deeply contemplative. "Our anger is not efficient. It merely lands us here: confined by the corrupt institution of education to yet another time-wasting activity. If we were able to focus our iron resolve into one goal without distractions, ours would be a force utterly unstoppable. The vile despots would have no chance."

"Quite right, Mr. Anaxares," nodded Black. "There are very, very few things in this world comparable to the might of one person with sufficient motivation." And she might have hallucinated it but Akua thought that, for a split-second, he was looking directly at her and Catherine. Then the moment was shattered, and he turned back to the rest of the group.

A small, cold smile crawled onto Black's face. "Now then," he said. "Shall we begin?"

…

Once the class was over, Akua cornered Cat for the second time - honestly, it was going to become a habit at this rate - and tugged her by the wrist into an empty classroom. The second the door clicked shut, the other girl shot her an irritated glare and yanked away her hand.

"What do you want, Sahelian? Aren't we supposed to tell Black that we're dating or something right about now?"

"First of all, quiet down. You heard Black say that he could hear us from outside, right? So what makes you think he can't hear us now? Secondly, you don't get to call me by my last name if I can't call you by yours. It's that thing you like so much - you know, equality? And thirdly,  _ absolutely not! _ "

Cat frowned. "Hey, if you're planning on saying ‘sike’ right now, it's a little bit too late for that alright? I did not put myself through the humiliation of pretending to date  _ you _ only for you to-"

"The plan is not called off," Akua snapped. "It has, however, been postponed due to your  _ crippling inability to act _ ." 

"Excuse me?"

"Request denied," replied Akua flatly. "You are quite possibly the worst actor I know, and I've had to tolerate people sucking up to me since I was a child. Until we can scrape together enough chemistry to actually make this somewhat believable, I refuse to confront Black. If we tried it right now, he'd just laugh us out of the room."  _ Even that ridiculous kiss wouldn't be enough to convince him,  _ she added silently.

"The way you say it makes it sound like you think we can just generate 'chemistry' from thin air." Cat rolled her eyes and crossed her arms with the kind of condescending air one would usually reserve for explaining a very basic concept to a toddler. "I hate to break it to you, but that's not really how relationships work. I don't exactly need a horoscope to know we're not compatible."

"What are you not understanding about this? We don't need to be compatible, moron, we just need to get better at pretending that we are. And yes, I include myself in that descriptor because even I can admit that I could be better at hiding how completely intolerable I find you."

"Love you too, darling," Cat said sardonically. "Alright, then, what genius plan have you concocted to improve our lackluster acting skills?"

" _ Your  _ lackluster acting skills," Akua corrected. "I only said that I could be better at hiding my opinion of you, not that I'm not already doing a fantastic job. Now, I wouldn't say my plan is particularly brilliant, but it's still leagues ahead of just floundering about and hoping Black's awareness skills will miraculously plummet whenever he sees us. Here's how it goes…"

...

_ Three hours later, outside a small, up-scale movie theater. _

"What the fuck is this?"

Before she answered the rather crass question, Akua took a moment to look over her date. She allowed a certain detached satisfaction to burn through her chest at the sight: she'd instructed Catherine via text to dress up as nicely as she possibly could without resorting to actual black-tie fashion, and the results were… satisfactory. She'd chosen an unpretentious yet classic white button-up, black slacks, and a long woolen overcoat over polished leather boots. It was probably fake leather, considering Cat's modest income, but it looked decent enough all the same.

"It's a movie theater," Akua finally replied, considering whether or not to show that she was pleased with the way the other girl had chosen to dress. "You  _ do _ know what that is, don't you?" A moment passed. "Also, you look acceptable," she added, not at all awkwardly. Catherine seemed very much like a positive reinforcement type, so the compliment should serve well enough as an olive branch.

"No, in my twenty entire years of life I have never seen or heard of such a thing," Cat said flatly. " _ Of course _ I know what a movie theater is. I just don't go to them, much less theaters like… this," she concluded vaguely, waving an arm toward where bright blinking strobe lights spelled out the words 'LUXURY CINEMA'. "And thank you. My biggest dream ever since I was a little kid was to be acknowledged as 'acceptable looking' by a spoiled rich girl. Finally, I can die happy."

Akua decided to do what she very frequently did when Catherine was talking and simply ignored the parts of the other girl's answer that she didn't like. "Why don't you go to theaters?" she asked instead, walking up the broad, carpeted steps to the double doors of the cinema.

Cat stopped abruptly and tugged Akua closer until their faces were less than an inch apart. With Cat standing on the step above her, they were almost eye-level; incomprehensibly, Akua felt a dizzying burst of deja vu. The last time they were this close - hurriedly, she crammed the thought into the deepest corners of her mind. It was just in time for Catherine to start talking.

"Since we're fake dating, I need to tell you something very important about me," she said very seriously, her voice a low, urgent whisper. "I have never, in my life, paid for a Hollywood movie that I could pirate."

"God, you're incorrigible," said Akua with disgust, jerking away from the other girl. "Don't you think the studio's efforts should be financially compensated?"

"Disney can suck my dick," Cat replied dismissively, letting go of Akua and striding up the stairs. "Now hurry up, I want to see how shitty your taste in movies is."

…

"This is… a goddamn…  _ Powerman _ movie." Cat said the words very slowly, syllable by syllable, as if she could barely understand the sounds her own mouth was making.

"I suppose it is," Her date primly responded.

"Akua whatever-the-fuck-your-middle-name-is Sahelian, literally what was going through that thick skull of yours when you decided to pay actual physical money to watch this garbage?"

Akua glanced at the screen, where the words  _ Powerman 2: Fight Against The Forces Of Evil  _ were emblazoned in garish font across some spandex-clad superhero's chiseled pecs. "I thought you'd like it," she said neutrally, distinctly not showing that she was mildly offended by Catherine's less-than-overjoyed reaction. She'd actually spent a significant amount of time trying to piece together what the other girl might want to watch, though apparently she was horrifically wrong.

"Please tell me exactly what I did to imply that I might even tolerate this kind of movie, so that I can make sure to never do it again in my life."

"Believe it or not, Catherine, I don't know every detail of your personal preferences," Akua said irritatedly. "I know you appreciate fighting, and watching things being set on fire, and the arbitrary concept of justice. I simply attempted to find a movie that satisfied all three."

Cat groaned and slapped a hand lightly against her face, but didn't push the matter further. "I guess I won't die if I have to sit here watching Mr. Six Pack save damsels in distress for two hours," she grudgingly conceded. "Still, I better have a drink with me if I do." As she got up from her seat, Akua tossed her a single crisply folded hundred-dollar bill.

"If you're going to leave, get me a-"

"Salad?" Cat interrupted drily.

"A  _ large bucket of popcorn _ ," Akua corrected. "And a bottle of water."

Cat smirked. "And what are you supposed to say after you ask for something?"

"Go fuck yourself?" Akua offered.

"Hmm, not quite. Try again."

Akua rolled her eyes and said, as sweetly as she possibly could, "Please, dearest, heart of my heart, love of my life, would you deign to collect the refreshments that I'm so generously paying for?"

" _ That's _ better."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for such an abrupt end - cat’s pov will start up immediately after the end of this chapter. as always, comments are very much appreciated!
> 
> also, i want to give a special shout out to fayhem for putting so much time and effort into beta-ing this - seriously, you rock.


	6. orbit

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> sorry for the delay, guys! the last couple months have been pretty stressful + busy for me, but i'll try to update less sporadically from now on. also, i know i said this chapter was going to start off immediately after the end of the last one but it just didn't come out that way RIP. 
> 
> special thanks as always to my SUPERB beta Fayhem, especially for slogging through this thicc boi of a chapter. also thank you to Cry for producing the most gorgeous AM fanart and for arguing with me enough that i have a basically limitless source of inspiration for cat and akua's banter. nerd. and last but certainly not least, thank YOU guys so much for 100 kudos holy fuck!! as always, comments are very appreciated :D

There was something to be said about sitting two feet apart from someone you more or less despised, eyeballs glued to a movie you unquestionably despised, steadfastly ignoring each other's presence except for the occasional stilted brush of a hand while reaching for the same popcorn bucket. That thing wasn't necessarily good, of course, and Cat was certain she would never voluntarily do it again, but it was still an experience. It may have even improved her moral character by the most minuscule of amounts. She could already imagine the headlines – _Twitter Leftist Breathes The Same Air As Unrepentant Capitalist For 1.5 Hours; Rates of Political Feuding Drop To Zero._

Cat had originally tried to focus on the movie out of respect for the fact that Akua was footing her bill but very quickly came to the conclusion that regardless of whether $20 worth of overpriced ticket was wasted or not, it would make absolutely no dent in the Sahelians' coffers. Which meant that she was back to half-heartedly watching some square-jawed muscle man wrangle another, very similar looking square-jawed muscle man who was apparently his nemesis with only the vaguest idea of what was actually going on. _Take a shot every time the villain monologues homoerotically_ , Cat thought derisively, and conveniently enough two minutes later Power Man's arch-rival was pinning him against the wall and gloating about how they could rule the world together in utter darkness. Cat snorted as she took a long swig of her Coke. _No homo though, of course._

Improvised drinking games aside, though, Cat wasn't sure how much longer she could take this. The acting was mediocre, the CGI eagerly embraced the uncanny valley, and the dialogue might as well have been written by a particularly dim kindergartener. There were simply no redeeming qualities. Admittedly, the main character was kind of a hunk, but if eye candy was the only thing she was looking for she could've just… 

Her gaze slipped briefly from the screen in front of her to the person who was responsible for this purgatory in the first place. Akua Sahelian, resident gazillionaire devil and soul-sucking giraffe, current bane of Cat's existence, looked… actually a little bit riveted? Cat blinked rapidly, unsure if the dim lighting of the theater was causing some kind of optical illusion. But no, she'd seen correctly the first time – it was definitely _not_ the boredom and disgust she'd expected that was written all over the other girl's face. Well, there was disgust, but it was an enthralled kind of disgust. Like Akua was enjoying the movie, even if only because it gave her morbid pleasure to mentally tear it to shreds.

Something exploded on-screen in a comically large mushroom cloud of fire and shrapnel but Cat was barely paying attention. She watched with a strange interest how Akua's face lit up at the cheesy action sequence – there was an almost childish variety of joy in her eyes that softened her aristocratic features, the intrinsic human glee of watching stuff get smashed to pieces. Cat turned away quickly, unsettled, and crammed a handful of popcorn in her mouth to focus on something else. Akua Sahelian, and more importantly everything she stood for, was not supposed to like shitty superhero movies. She was supposed to like pretentious arthouse films, the most excruciatingly dull type of classical music, and exploiting workers for material gain. And realistically, she probably did. But this new revelation disturbed Cat nonetheless.

She took solace in the fact that Akua was still enjoying this mass-produced Hollywood fare in a self-proclaimed luxury cinema over a $25 bucket of popcorn. That aligned much better with her mental image of the glutted heiress.

Half an hour later, the movie ended. Cat hardly noticed, busy as she was prying stubborn popcorn kernels from between her teeth with her tongue and sneaking discreet glances at her 'date.' It was depressing to think that the other movie-goers probably thought she was some blushing, love-struck idiot infatuated with the other girl when in reality she was… well admittedly she _was_ kind of an idiot but more importantly than that she was hate-struck _._ So much so that it didn't matter it wasn't a word. Indeed, Cat was consumed with a very petulant rage that Akua was so cripplingly unempathetic along with her collection of other personality flaws, because if she wasn't Cat might actually find her a little… charming. They shared the same love for debate, clearly, and when the other girl wasn't posing haughtily she could actually come up with some fairly witty insults. 

"Did you find that movie so enthralling that you need some time to bask in its cinematic genius?"

Cat's head snapped up toward the source of the noise, which – surprise, surprise – was exactly who she'd been mulling over. Akua Sahelian stood in front of her in all her six-foot-something glory, arms crossed, a small smirk tugging at the corner of her lips, undoubtedly internally congratulating herself on such a _fine_ roast. 

"I'm not the one who was enthralled," Cat hummed lightly, getting to her feet. Together they walked out of the viewing room, and she tossed her empty styrofoam cup in the recycling bin before continuing. "From the expressions on your face I would've thought you were watching a particularly moving documentary or something, not two guys in spandex punching each other to rock music for an hour and a half."

Akua's smirk morphed into a deep scowl, though to her credit there was no hint of a blush on her cheeks. The only sign that she was embarrassed was that she started walking faster, probably so Cat had to hurry to catch up on her damnably much shorter legs. "Slander," she replied brusquely. "If I showed any emotion at all, it was because I was mourning the loss of neurons from being forced to entertain such a vapid film." Then, suddenly, the smirk came back in full force. "I do have to wonder why you were taking such careful stock of my face, though, dearest Catherine."

Cat pushed open the door to the theater's exit and briefly entertained letting it hit Akua before deciding not to, pinnacle of graciousness that she was. She took a deep breath as soon as she felt the cold night air slam into her face. It was a welcome change from the stale ambiance of the theater. "Calm down, Sahelian, I wasn't ogling you. It was just something I noticed while looking around the room – and I was doing that a lot, considering how god-awful the movie was. At least we can agree on that part." 

She took a sharp left and started heading toward the cinema's parking lot to get her bike when a sudden hand on her forearm stopped her. 

"The entire purpose of this… activity was for us to get to know each other better, correct? We were supposed to have some–" Akua grimaced. "–'quality bonding time'. Clearly, that did not happen."

"It did not," Cat agreed slowly, half-tempted to pry the other girl's fingers off of her. It never ceased feeling weird, this skin-on-skin contact; Akua's hands were almost unnaturally smooth and beautiful, looking eerily similar to chiseled marble, but now that they were touching Cat could feel how warm the other girl truly was. "What are you getting at?"

Akua coughed, looking away slightly. "Well… would you be opposed to watching another movie? It's not particularly late."

Cat shuffled her legs awkwardly. Signing up to spend even more time with this insufferable girl was torture with more steps, essentially, but also… Akua was right. They needed to get a decently good grasp on each other's personalities and true motivations before their next anger management class or this entire farce was doomed. "I'm not sure if the theater will let you buy more tickets if you haven't pre-ordered," she offered at last. "It seemed pretty packed in there."

The taller girl shook her head minutely. "I was not suggesting that we go to the same theater. Evidently, that atmosphere isn't conducive to what we're trying to accomplish. Instead…" she hesitated, which was really fucking weird. Akua Sahelian _never_ hesitated. Cat's estimation of her shifted again by a fraction of a degree, like a building that was slowly toppling toward collapse. She wasn't sure how much more cognitive dissonance she could take in one night. "...would you be amenable to watching a movie in my apartment?"

The gears of Cat's mind screeched to a halt. She couldn't even vocalize a quip about how Akua should buy her dinner first, which was really saying something considering how much she loved prodding at the heiress. "Your… apartment," she repeated dumbly.

"Yes," said Akua. She abruptly let go of where she was holding onto Cat's arm, as if it were a scalding object, and then continued speed-walking toward the parking lot.

"I– _guess_?" Cat eventually choked out, hastening to keep pace and mentally cursing the way her voice quavered at the last syllable. "Yeah, I mean– sure– that's fine. That's a good idea. Um." She cleared her throat awkwardly. "I'm banking on the fact that you're not a serial killer."

"Believe me, Catherine, if I wanted to kill you there would be no need to lure you back to my place. You seem very easy to murder." Despite her words, though, Akua seemed relieved at the change of topic.

" _I_ seem easy to murder?" Cat huffed in offended disbelief. "I'm pretty sure I could strangle you in, like, two seconds flat."

"You can barely reach my neck," Akua answered dismissively, fishing a set of car keys out of her pants pocket. Ten feet away, a slick black Maserati chirped to life, street-light roiling off its immaculate glossy paint. Cat's jaw dropped.

" _That's_ your fucking car?"

"Yes." _Gods_ , Cat thought, _the amount of self-satisfaction she can cram into a single word is almost impressive_. Akua strode up to the passenger side door and opened it, amusement glimmering in her dark eyes. "Ladies first."

Cat rolled her eyes. "Yeah, yeah, fuck you too."

***

Like many other events that night, being in a car with Akua Sahelian felt deeply, fundamentally bizarre. It was one thing to sit next to each other in a movie theater, but sharing the same space so closely – breathing in the same heated air, listening to the same quiet jazz from the radio – was something else entirely. Cat picked at the hem of her shirt, wondering if she was crazy or if this was weirdly intimate. Next to her, Akua remained silent, focused entirely on the road. The city lights haloing her skin made her look… warm, almost, or submerged in an alternate reality where the world was much more peaceful. It was actually kind of nice, and because of that, it was horrible.

When they stopped at a traffic light, Cat decided to speak up. "So… do you know which movie we're going to watch?"

Akua smiled faintly. "I thought I'd let you choose, considering how much you despised my last choice."

"How considerate of you."

And then they lapsed back into silence. Cat swallowed hard, staring out the window. This was the high-end part of the city, that much was clear. It seemed like they were completely surrounded by towering skyscrapers erected from metal and glass and cars nearly as fancy as Akua's. While she'd never had to tough it out in the slums of Laure per se, the majority of the foster homes she'd been kicked around had been poor enough they were scraping by on only the essentials. This place seemed so different, and not just because it was a different country. Cat had this nagging feeling that any random person she saw walking by probably owned clothes more expensive than the orphanage back in Callow, most of all the girl sitting not even a foot away from her. 

Finally, they pulled into the parking lot of what had to be the swankiest apartment building in the world. As they approached the doors, Cat noticed two very menacing security guards standing on either side of the entrance. The moment they laid eyes on Akua, though, their entire demeanor changed.

"I hope you're having a good night, Miss Sahelian," one managed nervously, before the other guard shot him an urgent glare. "I mean– ma'am!"

Akua looked at him with all the interest of a lion noticing a flea. Without bothering to answer, she pressed a small card to the key reader and the doors slid silently open. As they entered the brightly-lit lobby together, Cat spoke up again.

"You know, you're supposed to answer people when they talk to you."

Akua spared her a glance. "According to whom?"

"Oh, I don't know," Cat replied sardonically, "The rules for basic decency in society?"

"Rules don't apply to everyone, Catherine." Akua pressed the up button, waiting for the elevator. "That guard's peace of mind has no bearing on my life."

A bark of laughter exploded out of Cat's chest, suddenly, bitter and sharp. "So you're just going to admit you don't give a damn about anything that doesn't directly concern you?"

"Why do you keep acting like we're so different?" The elevator doors slid open; reluctantly, Cat followed Akua in. Thankfully, no one else entered. "You only care for the things you've decided should matter, whether those be random guards or social justice causes. And that is your prerogative, just how I choose to only concern myself with–"

"Yourself?"

"My interests, yes." The taller girl pressed the button for the highest floor and soon enough they were hurtling through the air. "Look, Catherine, as much as I enjoy our little spats, can we table this discussion for now? I'm already aware of your stance on how people should be treated. That's why we're in Black's godforsaken class in the first place. This time should be spent wisely to learn about the non-politically-related facets of each other's character."

 _But your entire existence is politically-related, considering that you're the heiress to a billion-dollar empire that made its fortune off breaking its employees' backs. But what's the point of trying to get to know each other better, when nothing I can learn about you will change the fact that you're horrible. But I don't fucking want to learn other things about you, because I hate you._ Those were all things Cat very much wanted to say but didn't by sheer dint of biting her tongue before they could leave her mouth. Instead, she took a slow breath, and felt whatever previous affection she might've garnered for the other girl from their earlier interaction turn to ash.

 _Who made you like this?_ She thought, staring hard at the other girl. And then, in her most clipped voice, she finally answered, "Sure."

***

Akua's apartment – penthouse, specifically – looked extremely similar to a luxury interior design magazine, except somehow even more extravagant. Floor-to-ceiling windows with a breathtaking view of the city covered the perimeter of the vast living room, which led into a modern kitchen complete with marble island, chandelier, and some kind of pasta arm that Cat doubted had ever been used. The entire place was so spotless as to be unnerving; Cat could see her reflection off practically every surface she encountered.

"Would you like a drink?" Akua asked, hanging up her coat. Like with everything else she did, there was an inherent elegance to the motion. Cat’s eyes trailed down the length of her figure, wondering exactly how much that silk blouse and pencil skirt cost. Probably some mind-boggling sum – they seemed tailored for her, accentuating her utterly unfair Barbie-doll proportions.

"Ever the gracious host," Cat murmured in reply, forcing herself to drag her eyes away. She didn’t think the other girl minded – in fact, she might go as far as to say there was a _smirk_ on that intolerable face – but still, for the sake of her remaining scraps of dignity, she refused to look at Akua any more than absolutely necessary.

"Is that a yes?"

  
"I'll have a beer, I guess," she said, flopping unceremoniously onto the expansive leather sofa. She simply did not have the patience to spend one more second in Akua’s presence sober. 

After a few moments rummaging in the fridge, Akua reappeared with a glass beer bottle and tossed it at Cat. She narrowly avoided getting smacked in the skull by using a sequined pillow as shield.

"Hey! Is the gracious host act over already?"

"We've committed arson together," Akua replied dismissively. "Do forgive me if I don't feel the need to be quite so proper around you."

"Some crimes can never be forgiven," Cat said instinctively, but there was more truth to her retort than she'd like to admit. The distance between them was wearing thinner, undeniably, as an automatic consequence of being in each other's presence. It was… not something she liked. There was no world she could imagine where she and Akua Sahelian were halfway friends, and yet regardless of their vast personal differences it felt like they kept careening toward that anyway.

_Just until we're out of anger management. And then I'll never see her aga–_

Her thoughts were derailed by a dull pain in her shoulder as something small and hard smacked into it. Blinking, Cat grabbed the offending object from where it had fallen between the creases of the sofa.

"A bottle opener," Akua said by way of explanation, finally sitting down a few feet away from Cat. "You may be a brute but I don't expect you to open it with your hands."

The lights dimmed and the taller girl fiddled with the remote until the giant flatscreen in front of them flashed to life. Then she offered it to Cat with a look that implied very clearly that she was going to judge her taste in movies. Long, awkward minutes were spent scrolling endlessly through the catalogue that was available to them before Cat finally stumbled upon something suitable. Better than suitable, really. Some might call it straight-up genius.

"Mean Girls?" Akua read off the screen blankly. 

"Yup," replied Cat, not even bothering to hide the note of gloating that entered her voice. "Wait. You've watched it, right?"

"Of course not," the other girl frowned. "I don't watch this kind of… fluff. There's no value in it."

 _Huh. Is that why she was so interested in the Powerman movie?_ If Akua's logic was to be believed, she'd probably never seen a superhero film before either. It may very well have been completely new to her.

"Well, you're in for an experience," Cat said finally. "I think you might relate to one of the characters. Just a hunch." Just as she was about the click the play button, though, something occurred to her. "Er… we're sitting like four feet away from each other."

Akua glanced at the distance between them. "I'd say three and a half."  
  
"That's not the point. The point is… don't we need to simulate the, uh, real dating experience?" Cat regretted the words the second they left her mouth, and she was very certain Akua was going to flatly respond that she'd rather gouge out her own eye with the bottle opener than cuddle, but to her undying surprise the heiress actually seemed to be considering it. 

"I suppose," Akua answered primly, and grabbed a blanket from the ottoman before moving right next to Cat and draping it over the both of them. At this point, they were practically pressed against each other; Cat could feel the warm weight of Akua's hand resting on her thigh, the measured rise and fall of the other girl's chest. And she could smell her perfume, unblemished skin laced with something richly floral and exotic and _heady._

 _Oh_ Gods. _I should never have said anything,_ Cat thought with more regret than she'd ever had possibly in her life. She was barely breathing, sucking in little increments of breath that reminded her of her proximity to Akua with every inhale. _Fuck anger management. Fuck Black. None of that is worth– this._

Slowly, painfully, she grabbed the remote and clicked play. She stared down hard at the glass of the beer bottle, watching the little bubbles swim up through the amber liquid up to the surface, and wondered how bad of an idea it would be to drink all of it within the first five minutes of the movie.

***

What followed was this: Akua and Cat back to staring at a screen for hours on end, but this time with no personal space to speak of. Akua made the occasional offhand remark about a character's stupidity, and Cat usually took that in stride because she doubted Akua Sahelian had ever truly shut up when there was something mean to say in her life. Overall, though, things progressed relatively smoothly (if you ignored the intense awkwardness that had settled over them like an oppressive layer of humidity) until Regina George was introduced. 

Cat watched Akua intently through each scene where Regina was on-screen, searching for the slightest hint of self-awareness on those noble features of hers. She didn't find it, of course. If Akua were the kind of person to be self-aware in any capacity she'd probably be a lot less annoying. Maybe even somewhat tolerable. What she found instead, though, was still interesting – Akua looked straight-up fascinated, not in a love-to-hate-her way, but as if she genuinely saw Regina as a perfectly reasonable and sympathetic character. Honestly, just by reading her facial expressions, Regina was probably the only character she was remotely invested in; at any other point, she just looked faintly affronted at the drama playing out in front of her.

About halfway through, at the iconic Jingle Bell Rock scene, the taller girl stood up abruptly and said, "I'm going to get a drink. I refuse to watch any more of this sober."

Cat nodded, trying to hide how relieved she was at that, and when Akua was gone she quickly let out the breath that she'd been holding quite possibly the whole damn time. She took a deep pull of the beer, whitening her knuckles as it burned down her esophagus. This entire place was Hell, essentially. She could feel her heart hammering in her throat. Everywhere she looked she could see the floor-to-ceiling windows, and the dazzling lights of the city's nightlife beyond. She wasn't supposed to be here, on a gazillion-dollar couch, sixty stories in the air, watching Mean Girls in dead silence inches away from the girl she probably despised most in the world. 

"Fuck," Cat muttered to herself, rubbing her sleeve across her face. She could take forty-five minutes more of stiltedness. She could. When Akua came back, champagne bottle and glass in tow, she pasted a tight smile onto her face.

"Fancy seeing you here," Cat said, thinking very much that she was going to die as Akua pressed their shoulders together again. She could feel it as the other girl let out a quiet sigh, halfway vulnerable, and then silently downed half a glass of wine. Cat took a small amount of comfort in the knowledge that Akua was probably finding this just as excruciating.

They sat, and they continued drinking, and the movie went on. And each time a character's parents were shown Akua stiffened up just the slightest bit. And each time something funny happened, Cat couldn't even laugh, intestines all tied up into a Gordian knot and head spinning for more reasons than just the beer. God, this close, all she could smell was the other girl's perfume. It was awful. It was horrible.

The movie ended, which Cat quickly realized was the worst thing in the world because now they were just squished up against each other in the dark in this giant cold space more expensive than Cat's life, probably. She licked at her lips nervously. The bottle gripped between her fingers was drained but she wished it wasn't. 

"So… how'd you like it?" she coughed out finally.

"Honestly?" Akua replied, sounding like her answer was surprising even herself. "It was…" Her hands interlocked firmly in her lap. "Not as bad as it could have been."

 _Fuck it,_ Cat thought, and then said: "Did you think Regina George was, uh, relatable?" The time for subtlety was long past over, frankly, and even if it wasn't, Cat genuinely didn't think she had enough remaining neurons rattling around in her skull to come up with a less blunt way of asking.

Akua remained silent for a long time. The dark in the room pooled at her clavicle and the angles of her face, casting her from something distinctly strange and irrefutably different from who she was during the day. Cat was beginning to think she had well and truly fucked this up, and that maybe it wouldn't be such a bad idea to go running out of one those giant windows, when the other girl answered.

"I'm not used to it," she said haltingly. "Seeing people like me… end up like that."

Cat blinked sluggishly. The alcohol was really setting in. "Run over by a school bus?"

"No. Almost happy. I don't watch this kind of garbage, usually, but I do know they all end up with the villain in a deplorable place. That's just how the stories go."

And wasn't that the little bit of self-awareness Cat had been looking for? Referring to herself as a villain? And yet somehow it wasn't as deliciously ironic as she'd expected it would be. Maybe because Akua didn't _seem_ like a villain, not right now, sitting ramrod-straight in designer clothes like she was too wary to relax even in her own home.

 _Who made you like this,_ Cat thought again, and this time there was a morbid edge to the curiosity. She turned her head to face Akua and their cheeks brushed together briefly – just for an instant – just long enough for them both to freeze.

"I'm guessing your childhood wasn't, uh… exactly like hers?" Cat said. Now she could smell the wine on Akua's breath too. Just… fucking… wonderful.

Akua laughed, a bloody little ball of bitterness hacked up past perfect rows of straight white teeth. "Regina's mother was an idiot," she said by way of answer, and Cat nearly recoiled at the amount of barren vitriol in her voice. "And weak. And enabling. She didn't need her daughter to like her, she needed her daughter to learn things that were actually useful from her."

"She loved her daughter," Cat replied. "She was compassionate. A little awkward, but her heart was in the right place."

The other girl's gaze raked over her, thick, dark lashes fluttering with the movement. "And what is that right place, hmm?" she said, voice smooth as silk and barely above a rasp. Then she looked away, staring straight ahead at the TV that was paused on the credits. Its cold blue light washed across her face, almost ghostly.  
  
"My mother molded me into who I am with a firm hand. It was rarely pleasant. She would lecture me for hours on how I was an utter failure if I performed any less than perfectly at fencing competitions. She bought me a rabbit with the sole purpose of killing it two months later, to show me that attachments could be severed instantly. I did not _enjoy_ it." Her voice had thinned into the flattest of monotones, as if she were simply reciting facts from a sheet. "It was still necessary."

"That's abuse." Cat's voice snapped through the frigid air, plainly horrified. "That was– you were abused. Your mother is disgusting."

"She never hit me," said Akua, and it had the same weariness as a refrain that had been echoed too many times.

"So? It's still abuse. Akua, I'm sorry." Cat found herself suddenly unsure what to do with her hands, so she let her empty bottle drop to the floor and placed them firmly on Akua's. "I'm sorry," she repeated, willing the other girl to see that she truly meant it. Akua finally looked back at her, jaw tight, lips slightly parted. Cat saw her throat bob as she swallowed. 

"I don't fucking want your pity," Akua whispered, sweet as warm, dripping honey. But she didn't pry her hands away. Instead, they stayed there in the dark and in the quiet. It could have been eleven at night. It could have been three in the morning. Time had turned strange, dilated, collapsed in on itself. Cat looked at Akua, in this madness, in this extravagant corpse of a penthouse in this part of the city as foreign as she'd ever seen, and was seized by the sudden desire to kiss her.

"I should go," Cat said suddenly, words rushing out in a hurried exhale all at once. "I– it's late. I should go. I have a shift in the morning." She let go of the other girl's stupidly soft hands and shoved them in her pockets like that would erase the memory.

"You should," Akua agreed, and pulled back enough so that they were separated by several feet once more. She ran a tight hand through her locks, something undecipherable running across her face, then continued, head turned away so that they weren't looking at each other. "You can take the money for the taxi back from my wallet. It's in my left coat pocket."

There was no way in hell Cat was going to do that, but still she was grateful that Akua didn't suggest driving her back herself. Partially because of the fact that they were both solidly drunk. But also because of the fact that she wasn't sure what would happen if she and Akua Sahelian were alone in a confined space for even a second longer. A spark had been lit, somewhere, and it was quickly burning down to something horrible. Cat wanted to hug Akua; Cat never wanted to see her again.

"Goodnight," she said, standing up jerkily from the couch, walking on unsteady legs toward the door. The other girl never did answer. And when Cat got back home to her small, cramped, decrepit apartment, she collapsed on her bed and fell asleep smelling of someone else's perfume.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DUDE THIS CHAPTER WAS LITERALLY THE CHAPTER I WAS MOST LOOKING FORWARD TO WRITING ASJHFKJSHFKDASJF THESE BITCHES ARE GAYYYYY


End file.
